


Devilman Crybaby Edward Iplier

by Snarkyowl



Category: Markiplier Egos, jacksepticeye egos - Fandom
Genre: Demons, Devilman Crybaby AU, Drugs, F/F, F/M, M/M, Non-graphic sex mentioned, blood mention tw, cursing, gore kinda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 16:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13415262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarkyowl/pseuds/Snarkyowl
Summary: Edward Iplier was a normal high-schooler living a normal high-school life until his longtime friend Howe Tacet approached him and asked for his help. Things get demonic, and Edward's life takes an exciting turn. Is it for the better, or the worse?





	Devilman Crybaby Edward Iplier

**Author's Note:**

> Things will get very messed up as the fic goes forward, please mind the warning tags I have added! I don't write things very graphically, but it's better to be safe than sorry. This is heavily based on the Devilman Crybaby series if that wasn't obvious enough. Not a complete clone rewrite, but fairly close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The spacing is awful and I am so sorry?

“Love does not exist, there is no such thing as love. Therefore, there is no sadness.”  
Two boys stood together on a cliffside. One of the boys was confused, perhaps even afraid, in the face of some strange child curled up alone in the cold on a cliff. The found one, the one that had been spending his nights and days curled up and alone, wanted to bite at him. Wanted to tear him to shreds for looking at him like that. The boy with the gold strip in his hair wanted to know why the other boy with kind brown eyes was so shocked to see someone up here when he was there himself.  
He didn’t expect a hand to be offered, didn’t expect a feeble voice to softly ask him if he was alright. And what a question that was, and from so soft a person. So warm a hand.  
“Are-Are you alright?”

\----

The weather around them was dark and stormy, and in front of the two boys was a box. A box that held a kitten, a very sick kitten that was missing fur and showing ribs. A kitten that would die in a few days.  
The boy with the gold strip in his hair demanded he be allowed to just kill the thing already. “It’s going to die soon anyway! Let me kill it!” He demanded.  
“No! Don’t!” cried the smaller, weaker child.  
Annoyed, the boy with the gold in his hair grabbed his friend’s shirt and pulled. For once, the other boy did not give up easily. Instead he kept himself folded over the kitten’s box like a barrier, sobbing for his friend to stop.  
“Just let me kill it!” 

\----

The kitten died not even two days later. The day was rainy, and the boy with blond in his otherwise brown hair watched boredly as his idiot companion set out with not even an umbrella to feed the thing. He didn’t have an umbrella because he’d left it over the kitten.  
Why he followed the other boy was a mystery, but he went anyway. Trudged all the way up through mud and slippery stone only to find the other brunette sobbing over the box, milk spilled across the stones and intermingling with the water.  
Poetic, in a way, that the world cried with the boy.  
“You knew it would die,” came the soft murmur, “so why do you cry for it?”  
“I didn’t know it would die!” Was the shrieked response, and the child with the umbrella watched as his sopping wet friend turned to face him.  
The anger was gone in seconds, melting to more pathetic sobbing. “I didn’t know.”  
“Weaklings die.”  
“No! That’s not true! That just isn’t true!”

\----

The track field was hot and overtaken by the sound of cicadas and footsteps, half of the team hard at work while the rest took shelter in the shade. The coach, a kind-hearted but oblivious old man, paid no mind to it all.  
As the runners pulled to a stop, they were able to better hear what was happening with the kids on the sidelines. Talk of a death in the running world, a young boy by the name of Marc Edenborough had passed away. He was part of a dynamic duo, his partner was Arthur Knox.  
Edward, a young man that was a poor runner but still did it anyway, paused to listen closer. The death and everything surrounding it was a mystery, he wondered if Arthur was missing his friend—Arthur and Marc had always seemed exceptionally close.  
He shed a tear purely out of empathy as he thought about how it would make him feel to lose his closest friend. I don’t think I could handle that. Shaking his head to clear it, he steeled himself. But I won’t lose any of my friends. I just won’t.  
Wiping his face off, Edward headed off to change out of his running clothes. He was sweaty and felt disgusting. He paused when he spotted his best friend and current housemate Henrik talking on the phone, and they shared a wave as Edward passed by. Edward didn’t catch any of the conversation, but from Henrik’s expression alone he knew he was probably talking to Charles again.  
The photographer was always pestering Henrik, and it annoyed everyone involved. Edward knew he was a sleazeball, but Henrik saw the best in most people.  
Edward wondered what that was like. To be so kind hearted and optimistic.  
He didn’t have that, just his empathy. 

\----

“Can you stop crying already?”  
The voice echoes through the room, annoyance making the air thick with tension. A man, a coach, stands in front of a window with his hands folded behind his back. He watches the outside world with uninterested eyes, mind too focused in on recent events to bother with caring about anything else.  
“I can’t believe you said nothing to the reporters. You already look suspicious with Marc unexplainably passing away. You’re being accused of doing hard drugs, so in this next competition you’re going to have to really up your game and prove your purity.”  
Behind the coach sits Arthur Knox himself, a dark look settled on his face as he calmly settles a switchblade in his hand. He grips it tightly, forcing himself to breathe as his coach speaks. Just listen, the sane part of his mind soothes. It’ll stop soon.  
Kill him. Shouts the other side, oppressive and burning. Kill him. Kill him.  
Arthur stands, holding tightly to the blade as he quietly moves towards his coach.  
“You’re an idiot so I’m going to explain how to interact with the pre-” The man’s words are cut off as a knife passes easily across his throat.  
Blood spills across the floor as the body collapses like a house of cards, a sickening thud and crack following the corpse as the head cracks against the windowsill and the body finally hits the floor. Arthur collapse with the body, stabbing into it despite knowing it’s already dead. He feels possessed, limbs that aren’t his own continue to stab and stab until finally, he stops.  
Taking a breath, he settles.  
No more coach.  
No more obstacles.

\----

Edward is waiting where he always is when Henrik and his friend Anthony (who everyone preferred to call “Ant”) pass by. Henrik seems surprised, like he always does, to see Edward there.  
“Oh, there you are,” he greets with a little smile, “doing okay?”  
“Yeah, I’m doing fine.” After replying and saying hello, Edward hangs back a bit to let Henrik and Ant talk.  
He’s lost in his own little world when Ant waves a hand in front of his face, giggling gently.  
“Spaced out there, Eddie?”  
“Yeah, a bit, sorry. What did you want?” Henrik and Ant share a look before Henrik turns on his heel to walk backwards and face Edward as they go.  
“You really need to get a cellphone, Edward. It would make keeping in contact a lot easier.” They’d had this conversation 101 times before, but Henrik still keeps insisting.  
“I just don’t really see the point.” Edward’s words are accompanied by a shrug as he speeds up to cut in between Ant and Henrik. “I don’t really need a cellphone, people can contact me fine enough as it is.”  
“No, you need a phone.” Henrik insists, and Edward groans.  
“Let it go, Henny.”  
“For now.” Henrik grumbles, and Edward rolls his eyes affectionately.  
The three pause then, and Henrik smiles awkwardly.  
“Hey, I’ve gotta go do something. I’ll be home later, but not too late. Seeya!” And without another word, Henrik has dashed off.  
Ant and Edward watch him dash off, Ant waving and yelling after Henrik to be careful. By the time Ant turns to look at Edward and mention going out for dinner or something, Edward is already gone.  
Where could he go that fast? Is he following after Henrik? Ant wonders, but in the end just heads home alone.

\----

In his car, Charles Hemperton curses in frustration. Henrik keeps dodging photoshoots and nights out together. He’s making Charles’ job twenty times as difficult, and it’s getting on his nerves. How the hell was he supposed to get the “sexy photo” his boss was after if he couldn’t even get the runner to be alone with him?  
“Fuck.”

\----

What am I doing here? Henrik thinks to himself, tired and wondering. Here he is on a little boardwalk on a river wondering about life. Funny. Why is he here? He’s just fallen deeper into a well of his own thoughts when he hears beatboxing accompanied by an admittedly talented voice rapping to it. He sits up and turns to watch as a group of three boys makes their way down towards him.  
The rapper is saying things about how awful life is in this part of the city, how hard his life is. He feels smothered, Henrik hears. He wants to feel sympathy but the words are a distraction as the boys line up shoulder-to-shoulder.  
Henrik can’t pass them.  
“Please let me through.” He tries, attempting to find a hole in their defensive lineup. Instead the rapper continues, waving his arms a bit more dramatically than he had been before.  
His green hair is fluffy and almost looks soft, his hat is turned backwards like these types usually wear them. To his left is another boy, shorter and he looks much kinder. His eyes are hidden behind orange sunglasses, but the small smile on his face speaks of amusement. To the right of the rapper is a short kid with hair that flops over his eyes, he’s the one beatboxing.  
The rap ends, and the rapper smirks.  
“Yo,” he says, and Henrik wants to punch him immediately upon hearing the tone of his voice, “what’d you think about my rhyme-”  
“Yo!” Cries the one in orange glasses, excited. “I’ve seen you before! You do swimwear modeling don’t you?” He asks, turning to his friend then as Henrik grimaces at the mention of the pictures he’d done for Charles.  
“He’s famous! This guy’s the wizard of highschool track and field!” He says, and Henrik is surprised by the admiration in the boy’s voice.  
The taller one with green hair doesn’t seem as impressed as he turns back to Henrik.  
“Oh, so you can run fast or whatever?” He sounds bored, but not impolitely so. He’s probably just sour he never got a compliment on his rapping.  
“Uh. Hey, pardon me?” Everyone on the boardwalk stops as a voice comes from below them, all four turning to find Edward Iplier awkwardly standing on a boat below them. Why he was in a boat was anyone’s guess, but there he was. “Could you guys uh- could you guys leave him alone? Y’know I was just wandering through here and-”  
“Edward! Were you following me!?” Henrik asks, and Edward grins up at him sheepishly.  
The rapper with the green hair cocks a brow, looking annoyed and unimpressed with Edward’s appearance.  
“So what, you a mermaid or somethin?” He asks, sneering as he does so. “Go back to where you came from, little bitch.”  
Henrik’s eyes go wide as he watches them throw some heavy looking boards down at Edward, which seems like a bit much for what Edward did. The three of them are going to throw more when the sound of screeching tires overflows the area.  
Everyone stills as an expensive looking car barrels towards them, screeching to a halt. A man climbs out, eyes dark and narrowed, and he moves with a confidence that makes it seem like he owns the world. Shoulders back, head high, and stride long. He’s odd looking, with dark hair marred by a golden streak, and he’s wrapped in a trenchcoat despite the fact it’s summer.  
“Edward! I found you! Now let’s go, I need your help!”  
“My help? Howe what do you mean?” Edward asks, and Henrik blinks in surprise. Edward knows this guy? Since when was Edward friends with anyone like this?  
The man in the trenchcoat dramatically holds out a hand to Edward, who laughs merrily like this is all the usual. Henrik feels unnerved as he watches Edward bound up towards the man and right into his arms, the two swinging around and laughing in a boisterous hug.  
“Oi! Who the fuck are you?” Demands the green-haired rapper, growing more hostile by the minute.  
“This is Howe Tacet! He’s one of my best friends, and has been since we were kids!” Edward responds, and Henrik wants to ask when the fuck Edward has been spending time with this Howe character.  
“We were in the middle of somethin’ here.” The rapper states, and the man with the gold in his hair snorts.  
“And now you aren’t.”  
“The fuck you just say to me?” The second the rapper makes a move to head up the stairs, the man in the trenchcoat produces a gun.  
“Behave.” He says as though he was talking to a dog. The rapper’s face contorts into something angry, but he stays put. Howe grins at Edward, then, dark eyes still bright with cheer.  
“Ready to go?”  
“Go where?”  
“Just come on.” Howe heads off, and Edward huffs.  
“Bye! I promise to be home before it’s too late!” He calls to Henrik before jogging over to Howe’s car. He’s afraid he’ll damage it just by touching it, it’s so expensive he’d hate to think of what the repairs would cost.

\----

“Edward!” Howe shouts as the car revs up. “Edward don’t just go off with someone like that-” The car takes off down the road again, and Henrik groans loudly in complaint. “Look what you idiots did!” He shouts at the rapping bunch before taking off for home.  
The rapper and his friends are too stunned to make chase, but even if they weren’t they probably couldn’t catch up anyways.

\----

Being in the car with Howe felt a bit awkward now that they were both over their initial excitement to be spending time with one another. Truly, it was bizarre. Especially for Edward, who wasn’t used to how his friend was acting. They’d kept in contact, of course, but Edward hadn’t expected what he was seeing. Howe was, and always had been, the more attractive one of their odd little duo. Now, though, he looked incredible.  
Shaking his head a bit, he bites his lip and returns his eyes to the road ahead of them. Howe drives well if not too fast, and Edward is grateful, at least, for that much. It’s silent, but then Howe finally speaks.  
“Get a phone. I had to track Henrik’s gps because I couldn’t find yours. You’re so old fashioned.” Howe’s light teasing draws out a soft snort and a laugh from Edward.  
“I don’t want or need a cell- you tracked me?”  
“Technically not you, but Henrik.”  
“That makes it no less creepy!” Howe laughs as Edward sinks into his seat with a miserable huff. “Seriously though, what’s so important you had to track me down through my friend’s phone?” Howe doesn’t reply immediately, whether it’s because he’s driving or not isn’t clear.  
He’s acting strange. He’s always been strange but this is all new for him. Tracking me, pulling out a gun- holy fuck he pulled out a gun what the fuck-  
“I needed your help with something direly important.” Howe’s voice rips Edward out of his thoughts, and confuses him enough that he forgets what he’d been getting worked up over.  
“My help? Direly important? Howe are you sure you don’t mean someone else? I can’t help with anything you do ever so why now-”  
“Because now I don’t need intelligence or speed or strength. I need-” Howe cuts off, pursing his lips and furrowing his brow as though he’s trying to word something differently. “I need a friend.” He finally says, glancing over at Edward as though to judge his reaction.  
Edward just tilts his head, frowning to himself.  
“A friend?” He asks quizzically, and when Howe gives him a stiff nod Edward pouts a bit. “What for?”  
“Something happened to me while I was in South America. I was going to help that old professor, like you know. When I got there, though, he was acting strange. I don’t just mean he was an old weird man either, Edward. I mean he was shooting down and trapping birds, then nailing them to the table because they were apparently too noisy.” Edward pales at the words, gripping tightly to his lap as he feels his lunch do gymnastics in his stomach. Who would ever do something like that? He asks himself, eyes wide and locked on his feet.  
“I know, it was… disturbing. I went into town to see if I could figure something out, but when I got there it was empty. I was going back to my car when the professor, Mr. Fenway, appeared. I don’t know how in the hell he got there so fast, but he did. I had a thing of gasoline in the back of my jeep because they don’t have filling stations that far out, and he just-” Howe pauses, licking his lips and breathing out harshly through his nose. “He poured it all over himself, Edward.”  
Edward feels genuinely sick now, and he wants to tell Howe to stop. He doesn’t speak up, and so Howe continues.  
“He started talking about needing to die while he was still human. It was insane, but he-he kept repeating that and then he said to me, “I cannot let this thing inside of me win.” Then he took out a lighter and well-”  
“Stop.”  
“The car or the story?”  
“Story.”  
“I’m just getting to the interesting part, Edward. You’ll live.” I don’t think my stomach will, though. Edward complains in his mind, but he nods to let Howe know he can continue without any interruptions now.  
“As he was burning, something happened. I don’t know what, but suddenly he wasn’t human anymore. He was-He was a demon.”  
“I’m sorry, Howe, but what the fuck?” Edward snaps, sitting forward and looking at Howe with his jaw jutted out in anger. “He fucking turned into a demon? Have you lost your-”  
“Have I ever been the type to joke about things like this, Edward?” Howe asks, icily calm. Edward freezes, slowly sitting back in his seat. Howe doesn’t look at him once, but Edwad knows if he did his eyes would be narrowed and shining with a silent dare to say anything against him again.  
“I’m sorry just- a demon, Howe? Doesn’t that seem kind of absurd?”  
“Maybe to you. It was to me at the time, too, but I shit you not. Mr. Fenway turned into a demon.” Edward settles back numbly in his seat, trying to process what he’s being told. Then, a realization.  
“Wait- Howe? What does this have to do with what we’re going?”  
“Demons are everywhere, Edward. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. They’re everywhere. Sports celebrities who suddenly gain incredible speed or strength, politicians that go from shit to suddenly convincing an entire city to vote for them. It all makes sense now. They didn’t improve naturally or use drugs, they used demons. Are demons.” Edward can’t digest what he’s being told, eyes wide and looking hopelessly at the dashboard like he hopes it will eat him alive.  
This is fucking insane. This can’t be real, demons can’t be real. They just can’t. Edward’s thoughts are a screaming, writhing mess as he tries to make sense of it all.  
“We’re going to hunt them, the demons. I’ve noticed that a good few seem to crop up during or after a certain kind of party drug is used, and always in shady party places.” Howe informs casually, and Edward still can’t believe what his friend is telling him.  
“So you’re saying we’re going to a party in a shady area to take some random, potentially dangerous drug, to try and summon and kill some demons?”  
“And record it.”  
“And record it.” Edward parrots, though where Howe’s voice was pointed and factual, Edward’s was disbelieving. “I can’t fucking believe you.”

\----

“There’s a chance you’ll get killed, or kill yourself like Fenway.” Howe says at the doorway into the party. He’s not looking at Edward, but instead at the ground. “I’m sorry I asked you to do this. I just didn’t trust anyone else not to try anything-” Edward stops him by putting a hand on his shoulder and smiling softly, sadly.  
“Hey. What’re friends for? Sure, I don’t think demon hunting was on my resume, but you’re my best friend. I’m totally willing to die if it means you get to figure something out, Howe.” Howe looks at him with an unreadable expression before lunging forward and holding him as close as possible.  
“Thank you.” He whispers, and Edward grins.  
“Of course.”  
Howe lets go of him after a moment, and they share a firm look and a nod before Howe throws open the doors.  
Edward is immediately assaulted by multicolored lights, loud music that sends vibrations through his entire body, and sex. People just openly fucking everywhere.  
Suddenly terrified, he sticks close to Howe as Howe ploughs onward. They both stop when a completely nude girl stops them. On her arm is a basket, and she grins almost-maniacally at them.  
“Hi! Here you go!” Edward watches in some kind of horror as Howe casually accepts a pill from the girls basket. The girl then turns to him, and he can’t help but turn a deep shade of red. When he doesn’t take the offered pill in time, the girl sets it on her tongue and pulls him into a kiss. Edward is so surprised, he lets it happen and when she pulls back he swallows the pill down. Immediately though, he panics.  
He hears the girl giggling and asking Howe if he’s a first-timer, to which How says yes.  
“He just got dumped by his girlfriend.” I never even had a girlfriend to begin with. I don’t even know if I’m into girls. But it’s only a lie to keep suspicion away, not that anyone here even has half the mind left to feel suspicious, so Edward doesn’t speak up about it.  
The two soon head deeper into the party, Howe buying a bottle of some kind of drink before they settle down on an odd couch thing built into the wall. To his right, there’s a couple enjoying a good round of fucking. Edward pointedly keeps his eyes off of them, and instead on his friend who’s becoming increasingly drunk as he continues to drink straight from the bottle.  
Howe’s mind, properly addled by drugs and alcohol, is a mess. Edward’s mind is a mess as well, but considerably less so in comparison to his friend’s. This becomes even more clear when Howe chugs down the rest of his drink and smashes the now empty bottle on the wall, leaving him with the broken off top half of the thing.  
Edward’s suddenly terrified, watching Howe shamble his way towards the other partygoers. He catches the tail end of what it is Howe is saying, something about the whole thing being too tame for demons. Edward is about to call Howe back when his friend attacks someone. Edward’s brain can’t keep up fast enough and suddenly Howe is rushing through the crowd, slashing at anyone he can with his broken bottle.  
When he finally catches up, people are already beginning to catch on that something is wrong while Howe’s victims scream in pained confusion. Edward stumbles up and onto his feet, eyes blown wide with fear and whatever was in the pill he was forced to take.  
“Howe! Howe stop! You can’t just attack people! Howe!” It feels pointless, even as he wraps his arms around Howe and yanks him away from the others. Howe swings his weapon furiously, shouting about demons this and exposing them that. It’s terrifying because this isn’t Edward’s friend anymore, not in the slightest.  
Then someone is punching Howe and pulling him away from Edward, and because Edward was associated with him he’s being beaten too. He’s on the floor before he knows it, feat and fists landing on his body and leaving bruises for sure.  
Just as he thinks this can’t get worse, he hears a series of awful noises. Cracking and ripping, wet fleshy sounds, and the screams.  
Edward doesn’t know what’s happening as he stumbles messily to his feet, all he knows is he needs to find Howe. He needs to find Howe.  
-  
Howe stumbles to his feet, face split in an eerie grin as he lets his back hit the wall. He pulls out his camera, watching as people turn to horrible monsters right before his eyes. He presses record as one demon rips the head off of screaming party-goers, as another demon swallows a man whole.  
With the camera pressed to his eyes, Howe slowly inches along the wall.  
“Amon! Now’s your chance, Amon! Possess Edward! Amon!” The name Amon is unfamiliar to him, and yet he says it anyways. He asks a demon to possess his friend.  
The demons slowly find their ways to him, forming a semicircle in front of him that slowly inches closer. His camera is gone, left somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t care, though. No, there’s no time to care about something like that right now.  
As the demons get closer he produces his gun, firing madly into the crowd. The demons shriek as their struck, others hit the floor and bleed yellow.  
Howe looks up and lets out a surprised shout as a winged demon heads down towards him, shooting at it as much as he can. He manages to kill it, but the body slams into him. He hits the floor, and all he can see are feathers.

\----

Edward sees a demon land on top of his friend, and while he knows logically Howe is probably dead, and that he’ll die too if he goes over there, he runs for it anyways.  
“Howe!” He cries, desperate and foolishly hopeful.  
He’s never been a good runner. He’s always been the slowest, the weakest. It’s a fact, and now it’s a matter of life or death. He hears the demon behind him and knows he shouldn’t look back. He knows, and yet he does it anyways. He looks back.  
The thing is huge and looks like a centipede with a crocodile’s head, colored an ugly red. It’s so close, soon he can feel its breath on his back. He’s going to die.  
Suddenly, there’s a flash. Edward feels pain, sharp and biting and all-consuming, and then he feels power.

\----

Where there was once a pathetic, skinny high-school boy, there now stands someone who looks much darker. He is taller, more muscled, and yet still the same person. His eyes are a pure white, marks around his eyes further exposing his change. He grins and breathes heavily, holding open the jaws of the demon about to consume him with ease.  
He allows the thing to shut its mouth, only to tear it back open with sickening ease. It doesn’t stop at just opening the mouth, no. The demon is torn completely in two, and Edward gets a twisted rush of glee. He is so, so powerful now.  
Edward’s body transforms further, then. Going from still somewhat human to something not human at all, hairy legs and a tail, leathery wings on his back, and odd horns sprouting from his now mostly black head. His skin is grey, nails turned to claws. Edward isn’t human any longer.  
Behind the newly made demon, Howe grins in amazed glee. He’s done it, he’s turned Edward into a devil.  
Edward’s new form tears easily through all of the surrounding demons, yellow blood soon covering the red that had previously stained the floor.  
Howe watches, stunned, as Edward’s power continues to grow. Soon enough, his old friend as the building set ablaze. He roars, and it sends a chill down Howe’s spine.  
I’ve done it. I’ve made Edward into a devil. He thinks to himself. But I may have also just made the most powerful, brutal, and ruthless devil in this world.  
And I don’t regret a thing.


End file.
